


A Demonic Influence

by AnotherWriterWhoWrites



Series: 2019 365 Days of Writing [38]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Azazel (Supernatural) Being an Asshole, Azazel (Supernatural)'s Special Children, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Brainwashed Sam Winchester, Episode: s01e21 Salvation, Gen, Kidnapped Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester on Demon Blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 01:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18174170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherWriterWhoWrites/pseuds/AnotherWriterWhoWrites
Summary: Season 1 divergence in which Sam is the one to bring the fake colt to the demons and is taken by Azazel. Three months later its a very different Sam that Dean manages to find and bring back.





	1. Chapter 1

Dean tried to ignore Sams gaze on him as he brought the food in. He set it on the side of Sams bed and immediately stepped back as Sam swung at him, wire in hand. 

The handcuffs around his wrists prevented Sam from getting closer to him and Dean used that leverage to grab at his brother, twisting his arms until Sam was forced to let go of the wire and with a small shove he pushed his brother back onto the bed. 

“Dad and Bobby are right upstairs, even if you manage to do a thing to me you’re not going to get away from them.” Dean told him for what felt like the hundredth time. 

Sam didn’t say anything, simply glowering at Dean as he sat back down on the bed, his teeth almost barred at him as his body shook, the tremors making him grip at the beds frame. 

“Just....remember to eat Sammy.” Dean said before he turned and went back upstairs to where his dad and Bobby were waiting. 

He came to a familiar sight, the two men sitting at a table with books stacked around them. John acknowledged Deans presence with a nod but didn't look away from whatever he was reading. 

Dean stared at them for a moment before he reached to grab one of the books, sitting down on the couch. He opened it and started to flip through the pages, not really reading anything or really seeing the words in front of him.

It had been two weeks since they had gotten Sam back. Two weeks since they found him with another demon.

But it was over three months since Sam had been taken from them. The original plan had been for John to go to the demons with the fake colt while Sam and Dean had gone to trap and kill Azazel. 

Sam had been the one to point out that John had been wanting this revenge for years, he had wanted to kill Azazel for over twenty years after what he had done to Mary. Sam loved Jess and wanted her avenged too but Mary had been dead longer and John deserved to be the one to shoot the bullet. 

So despite the pit in his stomach and the worry digging deeper into him Dean barely managed to agree, their dad didn’t look any happier about it either, btu ultimately, they decided to split up. John and Dean ot find Azazel, Sam to go to the demons. 

Dean had wanted to go with Sam, originally he was going to go with Sam, but last minute Dean was going to go with John, it would be a lot less suspicious if Sam went alone. 

Looking back now Dean wished he had said screw that and went with his brother.

Three months. Three of the longest months that Dean had ever experienced. Three months of not even knowing if his brother was dead, alive, possessed, tortured, or anything about him.

It was by luck that they managed to find him, or rather run into him. They were following any and all hints and signs of demonic activity in the hopes that it could lead to where Sam was. 

And finally they managed to find him. He wasn’t tortured, he wasn’t tied up, he wasn’t beaten or broken. In fact he looked at them with such distaste and disgust that it made Dean recoil, he had at the very least expected Sam to be glad to see him. 

He also didn’t expect Sam to levitate a knife into the air and launch it straight at his head. They did have the colt but they only had a couple bullets left and they couldn’t waste it on a random demon. Instead the demon smoked out of its vessel, much to Sams displeasure. 

They had used that moment to knock him unconscious and drag him to Bobbys. He passed all the tests, proving that he wasn’t being possessed by anything, he was annoyed by the exorcisms but otherwise nothing happened. 

But he also kept trying to attack them so they didn’t really have much of a choice but to drag him down to Bobby's panic room and handcuff him there. Whatever caused his little levitation power trick has happened in the panic room and he was resorted to trying to out right attack whoever went to him. 

He didn't say a word since he had arrived, he glared and soundlessly snarled at them but otherwise didn’t speak. 

Dean was the one bringing food to his brother, three times a day. He tried to speak to him in the beginning but when that got nowhere, and Sam kept trying to attack him, he stopped. He wasn’t sure that he could keep his voice steady anymore.

Despite everything time passed and when Dean glanced at his watch he saw that it was time to bring more food to his brother. At some point Bobby had ordered them pizza and Dean slid two slices onto a paper plate and grabbed a bottle of water before going back to the panic room.

Surprisingly Sam was just sitting on the bed, staring at Dean as he came in. He didn’t move as Dean moved to grab the tray, it was empty so that meant Sam was eating, small victories he supposed. 

Dean stared at his brother for a long moment before he sighed and turned to leave, freezing when he finally heard Sam speak behind him.

“Father is going to kill all of you.”


	2. Chapter 2

“What the hell does he mean ‘father’?” “What the hell did those demons do to him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it even Sam anymore?” “What do we do?”

“I don’t know.”

Dean was sitting on the couch wearily, slumped forward slightly as John and Bobby argued and ranted and raved above him. Dean rubbed at his eyes for a moment and wished that he could just go to sleep and ignore everything that was happening around him. 

But when it came to Sammy he didn’t even try, he knew that he was hardwired to be on the entire beck and call when it comes to taking care of Sammy. 

Even if he was lost to them in such a way. 

“What the hell did those demons do to him?” Bobby asked, taking his cap off to run his fingers through his thinning hair. 

“I don’t know!” Dean finally snapped, getting to his feet. “You want to know? Go downstairs and ask him! Not like he’s said anything before!”

John looked seconds away from doing just that, he had tried to avoid Sam since they dragged him here, but after a tense moment all the air left his body. 

“We need more info.” John finally sid, sounding as tired as Dean felt. “He needs to talk to us.”

“Question is, which one of us is he more willing to talk with?” Bobby asked. The three of them knew it was a stupid question, the ansewr was immediately obviously. 

Dean looked away from the other two that were looking at him. He didn’t want to go back down there, didn’t want to face Sam with those angry hate-filled eyes and a sneer on his face. 

He also didn’t have any other choice. Not when it came to possibly saving Sammy. 

Letting out a deep breath, swallowing hard, not looking at anyone else Dean forced himself to move and go back downstairs into Bobby's panic room. 

“The hell did Bobby need a panic room for?” he muttered under his breath to try to steady his nerves. He stopped in front of the door for a moment, steeling himself, and opened it. 

Immediately Sams attention was on him, his uneaten food was pushed to the side, out of reach. 

“You’re supposed to eat it.” Dean said, picking the tray up and setting it on the cot again. “Least pizzas good cold too.”

Sam didn’t say anything, just stared at him, it didn’t even seem like he was blinking but at least he was breathing. 

“You said something about your ‘father’.” Dean said, noting how a corner of Sams lip twitched up slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Father is going to kill you all.” Sam repeated, his voice hoarse from not using it. 

“Good luck to him.” Dean said fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Who is he?”

Sam bared his teeth at him in a resemblance of a smile. “Powerful.”

“I didn’t ask about him being powerful, I asked who he is.” Dean said, trying to remain patient and calm. 

Sam just smirked at him, not answering. 

“You’re a little shit no matter where your mind is.” Dean muttered, shaking his head. “C’mon Sam, talk to me. Aren’t you bored in here?”

Sam shrugged, looking around the panic room, still not saying a word. 

“You’ve been here a while.” Dean pointed out. “If your ‘father’ was going to kill us seems like he would’ve done it already.”

A flicker of something passed over Sam's face, barely there and Dean would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been looking. 

“So what’s he waiting for?” Dea asked, pressing. “An opening that’s not going to happen?”

“Busy.” Sam muttered, shifting in his seating position on the cot. 

“So busy he can’t come get his kid?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like bullshit and you know it.”

Sam bared his teeth again at him, wrapping his arms around himself. 

“He's not your father Sam.” Dean told him. “He doesn’t give a damn about you. Your father is John Winchester-”

“Human parent.” Sam injected, narrowing his eyes. “Not real father.”

“Yes he is.” Dean told him, feeling oddly drained and tired, he was so damn tired. “John Winchester is your father.”

“Human parent.” Sam repeated, agitation coloring his voice. “Human.”

“What other kind is there?” Dean demanded. “Cause you only get those.”

“Demon.” Sam all but snarled at him, eyes flashing.

“You’re not a demon Sam.” Dean snapped back at him. “You’re human!”

“Demon father!” Sam insisted, trying to stand up and being pulled back by the chains on his wrists. 

“You don’t have a demon father! You have a human one!” Dean shouted, able to get to his feet and tower over Sam. Sam narrowed his eyes at him but glared back easily. 

“Demon father.” Sam repeated, chest heaving slightly. “Azazel father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Supernatural. 
> 
> 261/365
> 
> I do take requests so if you have requests you can send them to me.


	3. Chapter 3

“He named Azazel as his father?” John demanded, his voice hollow. Dean felt his chest tighten at the small bits of despair he could hear. 

“Yeah, kept insisting on it.” Dean said, unable to look at his dad. “Wouldn’t hear anything else. Kept calling him his demon father and you his human father.”

“But what the hell does it mean, ‘demon father’?” Bobby asked. “They didn’t have him for so long that they can just erase everything.”

“His mind seems to be gone the most.” Dean said. “The way he's talking, its like hes a kid.”

Bobby gave a small groan, sitting back at his desk. Dean forced himself to look at his dad, flinching and looking away when he saw the look on his face. He couldn’t describe the look, it just made him want to throw up. 

He felt like he couldn’t breathe suddenly, sitting in this room. Even the panic room was preferable to this. 

Standing up, he went to the kitchen and made two banana and peanut butter sandwiches. Ignoring the other two he put everything on a paper plate and went back down to where his brother was being kept. 

Sam was culred up on the cot, head on his knees. He didn’t acknowledge Dean when he came in. the pizza had been pushed to the side again. 

“Here, brought you something else.” Dean said, putting the plate on the cot. “It's more up your alley.”

Sam didn’t stir or move, his chest moved as he breathed but that was the only sign of life. 

“C’mon Sammy, give me something.” Dean said, drained and just so damn tired. “At the very least eat something.”

Sam moved, just barely enough but enough that Dean could see a flash of his face and immediately Dean was on alert. 

He moved and grabbed Sams arms, pulling them away. Sam tried to fight him but his attempts were weakened due to how much blood was covering his front. 

“What the hell Sam?” Dean demanded, pushing his arms down until he saw the deep cuts on his wrists and the side of his neck. Grabbing at his hands Dean saw his jagged nails that were covered and embedded in blood. 

“You used your goddamn nails?” Dean said, fighting the urge to shout at him, it wouldn’t do any good. “Why!?”

If Sam wanted to answer he didn’t, just blinking at him with glazed over eyes. 

Cursing Dean let go of him long enough to spring to one of the boxes to grab a first aid kit that he knew Bobby had there, going back to his brother as quickly as he could.

First thing he did was rip Sams shirt off, grimacing at the sight of scratches. He grabbed the scissors from the kit and cut the rest of it, throwing the scraps to the side. 

He debated to take the handcuffs off but decided not to, it was still too much of a liability to do so. 

He used one of the wipes to clean off the skin to try to get to the cuts, seeing other smaller ones as he worked. Forcing it out of his mind Dean focused on the work. Cleaning, disinfecting, bandaging all the cuts he could see. When the blood made his hands slippery he just wiped them on his jeans and kept working. 

The more blood had been spilled, the stronger the smell of sulfur grew, something he was steadfastly ignoring as best as he could. Sam laid on the bed unmoving, letting Dean go as he wished to him. Sometimes he managed to let out a few small sounds but otherwise was silent. 

When Sam had been properly bandaged Dean went to the sink and filled a bowl with water. Snagging a cloth he went back to his brother and started to clean the blood off of his skin. He cleaned under his nails as well and then started to cut the nails as short as he could without hurting him. 

Finally after what seemed like forever Dean finished and he slumped forward, sliding down onto the ground. Taking a deep breath he forced himself to go back to the sink, cleaning his hands and arms of blood. He then cupped his hands washed his face as well. 

Gripping the sides of the sink he took a few deep breaths. He looked up at the mirror enough to see Sam on the cot, unmoving. Swallowing hard he pushed away from the sink, turning to look at his brother. After a moment, Sam turned his head to look at him, his face still pale. 

“What the hell Sam?” Dean asked hm, reaching back to grip at the sink and leaned against it. “What the hell is going on in your mind?”

There was no answer, of course, there was none. Shaking his head Dean spotted the blood that was decorating Sams mouth, there hadn’t been any cuts there so he hadn’t paid any attention. He grabbed the cloth and wet it once more, going over to him. 

He wiped at Sam's mouth, flashbacks to when Sam had been Sammy and needed the help when he ate. He cleaned the blood off of it and then just stared at him, sitting on the cot. 

“Why the hell did you do this Sam?” Dean asked, his voice low and surprisingly steady. “Why?”

Sam coughed, it sounded rough and dry, and despite knowing that the kid probably needed a glass of water Dean didn’t go to get him one. He was too damn pissed. 

“Tell me why Sam.” Dean repeated, fighting the urge to grab at him. 

“Thirsty.” Sam rasped out, voice cracking. “Thirsty.”

“You don’t have to claw at yourself for a drink. Just tell me?” Dean told him, barely restraining from snapping at him. “What were you thinking?”

Sam growled under his breath and tried to turn, the handcuffs preventing him from doing so. 

“Yeah try again, what the hell were you thinking?” Dean growled, hands shaking. 

“Thirsty.” Sam repeated. 

Groaning Dean turned back to the sink and turned the water on, snatching the glass from the side and filling it. He walked briskly to his brother but his touch was still gentle when he lifted Sam's head and tilted the glass to his lips. 

Sam drank weakly, most of the water falling down his front and getting him wet. When most of the glass was drained his head fell back and he coughed, closing his eyes. “Thirsty.” he whispered once more. 

“You just drank, what the hell are you thirsty for?” Dean asked, setting the glass on the ground. “Sammy, please talk to me.”

Sam's eyes opened and he looked at Dean, he tried hard to ignore how he saw flecks of black and yellow in his brothers eyes and just stared down at him. 

“Blood.” Sam whispered, making Dean's heart stop for a moment. “Blood.”

Despite himself he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and pressing on Sams gums, breathing out a sigh of relief when no vampire teeth slid out. “What do you mean blood?”

Sam coughed, and it still sounded so damn dry that Dean felt his own throat dry up. “Blood.” he whispered once more. “Father blood.”

It took Dean a moment, took a moment to realize just what Sam meant by ‘Father Blood’. Swallowing hard he gripped at his brother tightly. 

“Sammy.” Dean managed to get out. “Do you mean...demon blood?”

Everything inside of him came to a stop when he saw Sam nod. 

“Father blood.” Sam whispered once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Supernatural. 
> 
> 271/365
> 
> I do take requests so if you have requests you can send them to me.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean didn’t go back, he couldn’t face their dad like this, covered in blood and more questions than answers. 

He just stared down at his brother who just looked back up at him. Despite everything Sam almost had a look of innocence to him that made Dean's chest tighten and made everything a lot worse. 

He tried to think things through, tried to think logically with all the facts, regardless of how much it made him want to throw up. 

Sam had been with the demon that destroyed their family for three months. Somehow during those three months Sams mind had been broken bad enough that he was speaking like a child and claiming the demon as his father. 

And somewhere in between the demon had been making Sam drink his blood. He had no idea what to what it would do but stare at Sam who, not that he was paying attention, had a tremor going through his body, he had to admit that it was acting almost like a drug.

The tremor, Sam clawing at himself to get to his own blood; blood that was most likely also tinged with that same demon blood. Like he had just been trying to get to that bit, just that part that made it…

For fucks sake it was exactly like the demon blood was a drug. 

Slowly, against his will, his mind started to paint a picture. The demons getting Sam hooked on demon blood, using his addiction to their advantage, using it to make him both vulnerable and malleable to their liking. 

He didn’t do drugs, the worst he had done was pot a few times when he’s skip high school classes. That was stopped when Sam found out and that was it. He had no idea what long term exposure to drugs would do to a person. 

But this wasn’t just a drug, it was demon blood. That in itself was a completely different category. 

He didn’t know what to do. 

He didn’t know how to handle this. 

Was there anything he could even do?

Swallowing hard Dean turned towards the door, wanting to go upstairs almost as much as anything. He wanted to get their dad, didn’t want to think about this anymore.

Instead he remained sitting where he was, right next to Sam, watching over him. It was a mixture of not wanting to leave his brother and not trusting his brother o be left alone. 

Dean let out a deep breath, feeling incredibly weighed down. He stared down at Sam who was turning his head from side to side, stopping when their eyes connected. 

Dean didn’t have the energy to argue or say anything just staring at Sam as his mind tiredly tried to figure something that he could do. 

For now this he supposed, for now all he could do was stay here with his brother and watch over him. When Sam gave a small whimper he got up and went back to the sink, filling the glass with water again and then rewetting the cloth. 

If demon blood was like a drug then that meant that Sam was going through withdrawal, craving more demon blood and willing to do anything to get more of it. 

That just made another picture in his head about what the demons had done to him but he firmly tried to push that thought out of his mind. He went back to the cot and helped Sam bring his head up enough to drink some of the water. 

“You need to eat.” he told him roughly. “You don’t eat things are gonna get a lot worse.”

There was no answer, of course there wasn’t, but Dean wasn’t as bothered about it anymore. That’s what he told himself anyway. 

He reached over and took the plate he had brought down with him, bringing it to them. Banana and peanut butter was probably a bit too much for Sams stomach, soup would be better. But getting soup meant going upstairs and preparing it, something that Dean had no desire to do. 

So he took the sandwich apart as best as he could, swiping the cut up banana into the peanut butter and holding it to Sams mouth, pressing it against his lips when Sam didn’t eat. 

“For fucks sake just eat Sam.” he all but growled. He hated how Sam flinched at the sudden rush of anger in his voice but it got the job done, he opened his mouth slightly and ate. 

Slowly Dean fed him the rest of the pieces, trying to get as much of the peanut butter as he could from the bread. When he was done he put the plate to the side, using the cloth to wipe at his fingers. 

Sam looked up at him between his bangs, a little bit of color had returned to his face after he ate, and gave a small almost pitiful sound. When he saw that Dean was looking at him he tugged at the handcuffs around his wrist, an almost whimpering sound escaping him. 

Dean couldn’t help himself from reaching out and flicking Sams forehead, it was an automatic reaction to when his little brother was being a little shit. 

“No.” he told him. “I’m not even close to letting you out.” 

Sam gave another small, pained whimper as he continued to tug at the handcuffs, blinking his doe eyes at him pitifully. 

Damn it that was the look that always got him the lucky charms. 

Dean looked away, determined not to break this time. This time was different, before it was lucky charms, now Sam was a danger to both himself and everyone around him. 

“You start talking and I’ll start thinking about letting you get a bit of freedom.” he muttered, standing up to go to the sink to wash his hands properly, freezing when he heard a raspy voice say, 

“Dee.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Supernatural. 
> 
> 281/365
> 
> I do take requests so if you have requests you can send them to me.


	5. Chapter 5

“You are a manipulative, little shit Sam.” 

Dean stood unwavering as he crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at his little brother who was looking up at him, resembling way too much of Bambi when his mother had been shot. 

Fuck but he was weak to his brother when he looked up at him like this, he could already feel himself caving in and wanting to take the handcuffs off. 

But then he breathed the air in deeply and the smell of sulfur filled his lungs to the point that he had to cough to clear his airways. 

He couldn’t let Sam out, not just yet. It was still too dangerous to do so and if Sam didn’t see that, then all the poorer for him. 

He was trying to do what was best for his brother, he was sure that once they got Sam back he’d see that. 

But until then, he had to remain strong and he had to be hard on Sam and not give into whatever he wanted.

It also meant that he was going to have to go upstairs to get more things and face their dad and Bobby some time soon. He could look for clothes in some of the boxes to cover the blood but he knew that it wouldn’t do any good to do so. 

If he stayed here any longer he was going to crack and let Sam go and that was something that he couldn’t allow to happen.

“I’m going to go upstairs.” Dean told him, watching a wave of displeasure crossover Sam's face. “I’m going to get soup and cleaning supplies. You are going to eat that soup and then you’re going to get washed.”

His eyes narrowed when he heard Sam making a protesting sound. “I said, you’re going to eat the soup and you’re going to get washed.” he repeated, his voice hardening. “I know you understand me you little shit and I know you can talk.”

All Sam did was look pitifully at him again, tugging at the handcuffs and Dean fought the urge to throw water on him. 

“When I come back, if you’re not going to talk, I’m going to be really pissed off Sam.” Dean warmed him before turning and leaving the room. 

Once he was in the hallway he let out a deep breath and slumped against the wall, eyes closed as he tried to maintain his composure. The blood had dried on his clothes and wanted nothing else but to take them off. 

Fuck but he was tired, he felt like he had been tightly wound up, a coil and bundle of nerves and panic that had been released not because of relief but because if he kept it locked up anymore, he was going to lose it. 

Running a hand down his face Dean shook his head, forcing himself to push himself off of the wall. Each step upwards on the stairs felt like his feet were being pulled down by lead. He stumbled a few times but finally, managed to make it up the stairs. 

He could hear Bobby and their dad arguing in the living room and ignored them, not wanting to have anything to do with either of them for the time being. He slipped into his room upstairs, forcing himself to go up these stairs a lot faster to avoid detection. He ripped his clothes off and stuffed them deep into an empty bag of his to either be washed or thrown out later. 

He changed into a fresh pair of clothes, nabbing some new clothes for Sam too from his bag. Putting it under his arm he went downstairs to the kitchen, already antsy about how long he'd left Sam alone in the dungeon.

"And how long are you going to be a goddamn coward and not face your son?" Bobby all but thundered at his dad as he went back downstairs. He quickly moved into the kitchen, unsure of which son Bobby was talking about.

Dean moved a bit faster now, grabbing a can of soup and opening it up to heat it for his brother. He grabbed two bottles of water and then looked around, uncertain about what else to bring to him. 

He had no idea what to bring to someone who was going through drug withdrawal. The basic was that he needed to keep him hydrated and full of fluids, don't let them relapse, and that was...that was it. That was all that he knew what to do. 

He was sure that either dad or Bobby would know something else but he had no desire to talk to either of them for the time being. Or in the future, he didn't want to face anything right now and he was forcing himself to hurry up and get back to his brother. 

Once the soup was heated he poured it into a bowl for Sam, grabbing a few things for himself as well to eat down there. He pocketed the water bottles and looked over, grabbing another empty bowl and dish washing soap. It was the closest thing he had to actual soap within arms reach. 

He almost ran into his dad as he left the kitchen, barely able to keep a hold on the tray with everything else on it. 

"Dean, I want to talk to you about Sam." John told him, his voice a bit rough and eyes straining slightly. Dean felt a small flash of irritation shoot through him, despite how a part of him was telling himself that he was being ridiculous. 

Sam was dads son and he had been the one to press that he should go instead of John, of course, John was feeling guilty about the whole thing but at the same time, knowing everything that he did about his brother right now, Dean found it hard to care.

"I need to get back downstairs." Dean told him. "We'll talk later."

"No, I want to talk now." John pressed, reaching for Dean's arm. 

Dean didn't jerk back, he didn't want anything to fall, but he did move enough to get the message across. 

"You want to talk?" Dean half asked, half demanded. "Then come downstairs."

Without waiting for an answer Dean all but shoved past his dad and went back down to the dungeon, mouth twisting in displeasure when John didn't follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Supernatural. 
> 
> 284/365
> 
> I do take requests so if you have requests you can send them to me.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean focused on walking down the steps, balancing everything on the tray carefully to not drop it. He let out a small sigh when he got to the end, pausing when he heard footsteps following after him. 

Turning his head he watched John come down the steps, looking more rattled and uncertain than he could ever remember the man being. 

Before he could speak John spoke first, words he never thought he'd hear from his dad coming out. 

"I'm sorry." the older man said softly, looking at him for a moment before he tore his gaze away to look at the ground. 

Dean turned his body around completely to look at him, not saying a word just yet. 

He watched John swallow heavily, taking a deep breath. He could see when John registered the smell of sulfur in the air but still didn't say anything. 

"I've been avoiding this, avoiding you, avoiding Sam." he said softly. "Because...its all my fault."

Shaking his head John brought his hands up to run his fingers through his hair. "It was supposed to be me." he said, his voice tight. "I was supposed to be the one to go and give the fake colt, I was supposed to be the one that was to go to somewhere we knew was a trap, not Sam."

"But he argued, and we all know damn well how he is when he argued." John said, fondness and tiredness merging in his voice. "The most stubborn person I've ever met, he'd fight tooth and nail to say that the sky is green if he believed in it. And I hated to admit it, but he had a point."

"He said that I've been in this longer, that I was the one bringing you boys into this life for...for Mary. To avenge her. For over twenty years and this was the first real one true lead that we had." John swallowed hard. "And for the first time that we argued, and you know we argued a lot, I gave in. I let him convince me and even though I hated it and even though I knew in my bones that it was wrong, he was just so damn confident that..."

His eyes closed tightly and his head came forward in a small bow. "And then he got kidnapped, the demons took him, Azazel escaped us, and everything just came crashing down and nothing went right, our one chance gone and Sammy was gone and just..."

John took in a deep, great shuddering breath. "It's like everything that could've gone wrong did go wrong and I had no idea what to do. Then by some miracle we got Sammy back but he's not..." he glanced at the few feet towards the door where Sam was being kept. "He's not Sammy anymore."

"And it's not fair on you, everything that I've dumped on you for years and years." John continued. "And especially this, dumping this on you and letting you face this all alone. Stepping back and basically ignoring everything."

"I'm sorry." John said, looking at him again, unwavering. "I've been so wrapped up in guilt and shame and self hatred, at doing this, at bringing my boys to this part, that...I just stopped everything. I stopped being your dad, I stepped back and let you deal with everything. Again."

"Dad." Dean started to say, not knowing how to continue for a moment. 

"But that's over now, I'm not done feeling guilty, I'll never not feel guilty about everything that I've put you guys through, but I'm done doing nothing." John said, nodding to himself. "So, I'm here. What do I need to do?"

This was a role reversal that Dean had no idea how to deal with and had no desire to be in at the moment. Letting out a deep breath he turned back to the room where Sam was. 

"Lunch." he said simply, walking the rest of the way. John opened the door, the smell of sulfur got stronger when he did and he heard his dad groan at the smell but he ignored it. 

Sam was still lying on the cot, thankfully he didn't seem to have tried to claw at himself anymore but the blood had dried on his clothes and skin a bit more. He turned his head to look at them when they entered but didn't make a sound. 

He could hear John cursing behind him as Dean came forward, putting the tray on the ground next to the cot. 

"What did he do?" John asked, slowly coming closer to him. 

"Scratched himself to oblivion." Dean said, sitting on the cot and opening one of the water bottles, rolling his eyes when Sam scowled at the sight of it. "Just drink brat."

John swallowed hard and came forward more, looking at Sam who was alternating his gaze from Dean to him. 

"Alright, tell me what I missed." John said, rolling his shoulders back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Supernatural.
> 
> 287/365
> 
> I do take requests so if you have requests you can send them to me.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time Dean had finished speaking John had slumped forward and had his face buried in his hands. 

“Jesus Christ.” John finally said, straightening up and taking a deep breath. “Drinking demon blood. I never would’ve even guessed.”

“Its acting like a drug and he's going through withdrawal.” Dean said, trying to feed Sam the soup like he was a kid again. “Eat brat.”

John came closer to him, Sam's eyes snapped to him immediately. “Does he understand?”

“He understands and he can speak, he's just being annoying.” Dean said exasperated. “Yes, you Sam.”

Sam, in response, gave a small growl, turning his head to the side to avoid the spoon. 

Dean felt like the end of frayed rope, so burned out and barely holding on that he just didn't have the patience anymore. He was so tired and so drained that he just...couldn't anymore. 

He reached out and gripped tightly at Sams chin, jerking his head forward and all but jamming the spoon into his mouth. Sam sputtered and moved but Dean then covered his mouth forcing him to swallow the spoonful.

"Alright listen to me you little shit." Dean said warning clear in his voice, shifting his hand until he was holding onto Sam's face just slightly on the other end of painful. "Because I'm sick of this and I'm sick of playing your games. You can understand me, I know you can fucking speak. So this is ending now."

Sam glared back at him, upper lip curled into a snarl as he tried to pull free from Deans grip. 

In response Dean just tightened his grip. "Enough." he all but hissed out. "Enough Sam, fucking enough."

"Dean." John said quietly, his face almost completely pale. "Dean, maybe you should step back."

Dean felt like snarling himself. "I'm sick and tired of his games," he said. "He's jerking me around, acting like a brat when I'm trying to help him."

"He's been gone for awhile and other than getting him to drink demon blood we don't know what they did to him." John said, his voice surprisingly steady. "he might not realize that you're trying to help him."

Deans grip loosened for a moment and Sam moved fast, ripping his head free and bringing it up to try to bury his teeth in Dean's hand. At the first movement Dean immediately tried to pull his hand away but Sam managed to get close and hard enough to break the skin. 

"Shit!" Dean half reclaimed, taking a step back causing Sam to fall back onto the cot. For his part Sam looked a bit too smug, licking his lips. When Dean looked down at his hand he saw blood smeared along the skin, rolling down to fall to the ground. 

He stared at the wound, in the shape of teeth, and slowly he registered the pain but ultimately his anger was growing more. His hand curled into a fist, shaking hard and breathing harder. 

Before he could realize what he was doing he came forward and grabbed the remains of Sams shirt, hoisting him up. bringing his arm back. The arm with the hand that Sam had just bitten.

"Dean!" he could hear his dad shout. He wasn't sure how but John was suddenly next to him, holding him back. "Dean stop!"

"Let me go!" Dean snarled out, trying to break free and reach Sam. "He wants to act like this? He wants to be a little bitch like this? Fine! But that means he needs to get punished!"

What stopped the both of them wasn't either of them moving or trying to hold the other back, it wasn't each other at all. 

It was Sam. Sam who just suddenly started laughing at them, head thrown back, his back curved upwards as he laughed. It was a hollow sound, devoid of joy and real daughter that it just froze them to the core. 

"Just like them." Sam leered in between the laughs. "Just like the demons."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Supernatural. 
> 
> 294/365
> 
> I do take requests so if you have requests you can send them to me.


	8. Chapter 8

It took a lot of manhandling, a lot of twisting, and a hell of a lot more strength than John knew that he or Dean had. He tried to bodily drag his son out of the panic room, the room that was being filled with the chilling sound of Sam's laughter. 

Wrenching Dean away, avoiding his limbs and fists as his son tried to break free of his grip John all but threw him out of the room, closing the heavy door behind them to try to give them some sort of privacy from Sam. 

Dean pulled free from Johns arms and started to pace around the small area, grinding his teeth audibly, hands coming up to pull at his short hair. 

"Dean, go upstairs, go to sleep." John told him. "You're exhausted and drained, you need to take care of yourself before you take care of Sam."

"Never did that before." Dean said with a snort. "Always put that little brat before me."

"And now you need to start." John told him firmly. He reached out and physically turned Dean, all but shoving him towards the stairs. "Go, I'll watch over him and take care of him."

Dean wavered but then his exhaustion seemed to hit him as he seemed to rock for a moment, eyes clouding before he groaned and shook his head, rubbing at his eyes. 

"You sure you can handle it?" Dean asked, and it made John's heart clenched at his words. 

"Yeah, I'm sure." he said, not even sure himself but he had to be at the very least confident. If not for him than for Dean, just to let his son go off and rest for a bit. "Go son, it'll be fine."

It spoke volumes about how tired Dean really was that he just glanced towards Sam's room once more before he turned and slowly dragged himself upstairs, each step sounding heavier than the other. 

John let out a deep breath, slowly turning to look towards the room as he tried to steel himself. He needed a few extra moments to do so, not even close to being ready to go back into that room and face his youngest. 

If he thought about it anymore, he would go insane and talk himself out of it, so he forced himself to walk and go back into the room, trying to ignore the sulfur in the air.

Sam turned his head to look at him, eyes narrowing slightly when he saw that it was just John and that Dean was no longer with him. He bared his teeth at him, not blinking as he followed John as he walked closer. 

It was like trying to approach a rabid animal, and based on the fact that Sam had just bitten Dean the analogy wasn't that far off. 

"Just you and me now Sam." John told him, walking around the cot. Sam's eyes followed him without blinking, a strange emotion curling in them. "Deans not going to come back for a while."

Sam didn't react to that, not that John knew what kind of reaction he was looking for. He noted that Sam was tugging at the handcuffs around his wrists, his wrists were rubbed red and raw and John was sure that they were close to bleeding. 

Dean had mentioned that Sam had clawed at himself to try to get to his own blood in the absence of demon blood. The few things he knew about withdrawal, he knew that this wasn't going to be pretty. 

He had seen it more than a few times but it had mainly been alcohol withdrawal. Back when he had been in training and in Vietnam, the soldiers had no access to any kind of liquor, some of them had resorted to stealing and drinking rubbing alcohol from the medics tents.

Nothing good happened to them and nothing good happened to the other soldiers that tried to refrain and grit through the withdrawal symptoms. 

Most of them didn't come back regardless, he wasn't sure if it had been the withdrawal or just their lack of luck. 

But regardless, at the very least, he knew bits and pieces of what to expect and how to make it just that little bit easier for his kid. 

First things first, fluids. They had to make sure that Sam kept drinking water and if necessary, have an iv at hand. Dean had left a few water bottles on the ground next to the cot and John picked one up. 

Immediately Sam tensed up enough that he could even see it from the corner of his eye. 

Sighing to himself John instead went to the sink and turned it on, grabbing a cloth to wet it properly. The first aid kit was still open at the side of the cot where Dean had to use it and once he crossed over to it he rummaged through it for some bandages. 

Sam tried to move as far away as he could from him but John ignored it, grabbing his arm and dragging him back to him as he sat down on the side of the cot. Bringing the washcloth up he started to clean the reddened skin at Sams wrist. 

"Dean said you understand us, so I'm going to speak, feel free to add whatever you want." John told him as he worked. "I don't know what Azazel told you but whatever he said, he's lying. He doesn't give a damn about you and he's not your father."

He refused to flinch when Sam laughed at that, leering at him as well. Even though it hurt to do so, John met his gaze levelly. 

"Azazel is a demon, he's lying to you." he repeated. "Dean and I, we're your family. He's your brother, I'm your father."

The only answer that he got was a scoff and a roll of the eyes and he hated how much comfort he took in that in its familiarity. 

At the very least he knew that his stubborn as hell son was still somewhere in there. 

“I don’t care how long it takes or what we have to do to convince you.” John continued, wrapping the bandages around his wrist, needing to move the handcuff enough to do so. 

“We’re not giving up on you Sammy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Supernatural. 
> 
> 311/365
> 
> I do take requests so if you have requests you can send them to me.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean stayed a long time in the shower, long after the hot water had run out. he just stayed under the spray, not moving and keeping his head pressed against the old tile, staring at the mildew growing in the corner. 

He had no idea what to do here and he was under no belief that his dad knew anything. This was out of their leagues in every way. 

It's not like there's a book for this, Rehab Demon Blood for Dummies. 

Sighing Dean finally turned the water off, his teeth were clattering from the now cold water, and got out, grabbing a towel to dry himself off. Going back to his room he redressed and collapsed into bed. 

Kicking and wriggling enough to bring the blanket up he grabbed the pillow, wrapping his arms around it. he didn't bother closing his eyes, he already knew he wasn't going to sleep. 

His hand wasn't hurting anymore but it still held the phantom pain, more in that it was his brother that did it than what had happened. 

He wanted to remain positive, wanted to believe that they could get Sam back, and that everything would be okay. 

But the truth was, they didn't know that. maybe Sam was lost to them. There was a hell of a lot of things they didn't know about demons, who knew what they did to Sam as a result?

Anything and everything was a possibility and they had no idea where to start. 

Alright. First things first. The demon blood and getting him off of it. Quitting cold turkey, no other option. 

The next part was trying to figure out what else the demons did to him. He was only gone for three months but apparently the demons worked fast. 

No, not even then. Dean remembered when they found Sam with the other demon. He had a confident air around him, he even used telekinesis expertly enough that showed practice. 

So that meant even less time. Some time between Sam being kidnapped and the time in the warehouse the demons got Sam hooked on demon blood, broke his mind, rebuilt it, and trained him enough to be their effective pawn. 

Despite Sams insistence, he wasn't a demon. He passed all the tests and proved that he was still human. 

The timelines didn't match up, that's what was bothering him almost as much as anything. 

Sam was strong and stubborn, that much was evident as anything even now. He wouldn't break so easily, he wouldn't give in to this point. 

So what the hell were they missing?

Dean turned onto his back so he could look up at the ceiling as he thought. 

The only demon Sam mentioned was Azazel, his upper lip curled up in disgust. He named the demon his father, that had to mean something. 

It was like he was trying to put a puzzle together without the picture and a few pieces missing. 

The demons took him, broke him, and then rebuilt him. There was a lot of things they didn't know about demons. 

Dean banged his fist against the mattress as he scowled at the ceiling. 

It couldn't have been possession, possession would only destroy the person's mind, not rebuilt or recreate it. 

He remembered years ago, before Sam left for Stanford, Sam had been obsessed with the history channel one motel had and had watched constantly. More than a few times they walked about prisoners of war. About how they were tortured to such a point that they were willing to do anything their captors demanded, so long as they didn't get hurt anymore. 

So, point being made, the demons tortured Sam until they got him to a point that he was willing to listen to them. 

It was the confidence that was tripping him up the most. POW's didn't have that confidence, that assurance. 

Dean tried to imagine his brother downstairs, tried to remember something, anything about him that could give him sort of a clue. 

He, physically, looked the same. Still had the same stupid long hair that-

He stopped, something pricking in the back of his mind about that. 

Before Sams kidnapping his hair had bangs and was hitting only the nape of his neck.

Now it was hanging down, brushing just past his shoulders. 

And then, at the warehouse, he didn't notice because they've kept Sm chained to the cot, but he had grown more. Just an inch or two but enough for him to have noticed. 

The longer hair, the growth, those things didn't happen overnight. Or even in a three months. 

He knew his brother, down to the hair. Sam's hair didn't grow as fast as he did, it took months to grow just a bit. 

It took years to grow as long as it did. 

A part of him felt ridiculous, using hair as a growth measure like this, but it was all he had and he gripped at it. 

It was a leap and he knew it but at the same time, it started to make sense. 

If the demons had done something like this, it meant that they didn't have Sam for months. 

It meant that they had Sam for years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Supernatural. 
> 
> 321/365
> 
> I do take requests so if you have requests you can send them to me.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Supernatural.
> 
> 78/365
> 
> I do take requests so if you have requests you can send them to me.


End file.
